


I Didn’t Fall (you tripped me)

by unfortunate17



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bittersweet fluff basically, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 01:32:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2048193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfortunate17/pseuds/unfortunate17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn meets Liam during the second semester of his senior year. This is just their story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Didn’t Fall (you tripped me)

**Author's Note:**

> It turned into some weird, Nor-Cal AU. Sorrynotsorry.
> 
> Also this is almost word-for-word, action-for-action, thought-for-thought autobiographical. Just need an outlet - and you guys need new fic so I think it’s a win-win situation don’t you?:)

_________________________

They meet in January, on accident, when all Zayn can taste on his tongue is the element of freedom, the words  _one more semester_ inked into his veins. There’s no real plan, college hasn’t been solidified yet, but he’s got a major in mind, a dream, and nothing to hold him back.

_________________________

The weather is dark and damp, California cold unique in the sense that it goes bone-deep, leaves you freezing from the inside out. The post-Christmas blues are in as students trudge through the drizzle from the student parking lot into classrooms, the countdown to summer already the only thing on their minds.

Zayn’s first of class of the day is Economics, taught by a stout, balding man in his mid-forties who repeats the phrase, “We’re on the same page, yeah?” in every other sentence. It’s the first day of class and he’s already looking towards the clock at the back of the room, waiting for his empty second block. The world is white noise, he doesn’t know who’s sitting next to him - even the teacher’s name is lost on him.

Sometimes it feels like his life is on fast-forward. School. Basketball. Home. Homework. Writing. Sleep. Dream. And repeat.

The words “assigned semester partner” catch his attention though, and it’d be hilarious in every other situation - the way every student’s back is suddenly upright, eyes distrustfully shifting around the classroom, but Zayn can honestly say he’s not amused in the least bit. Group work always is an interestingly tricky situation for him.

Zayn snorts, sinking lower in his seat. It’s not like anything’s really going to make a difference at this point - most of the people in the classroom are unfamiliar anyway. It’s a regular level class, and Zayn hasn’t been in one in years - opts to take the college-readiness ones at the encouragement of his parents. All his friends are next door, probably already listening glumly to a lecture about the AP curriculum, but it’s second semester senior year. He likes to think he deserves a break.

His partner ends up being a loud boy from across the room that he’d taken distaste for since the minute he stepped into the old room.

It’s going to be a long semester.

_________________________

It’s only Tuesday, the second day back from break, and getting up at six am is already getting old. The days are hazy for Zayn, dragging in a never-ending cycle, waiting for a finish line that his English teacher says doesn’t exist.

The morning showers drown the school lawns in cold rain, and the sun hasn’t risen over the horizon yet - moon still hanging in the pink-orange sky as he makes his way up to Economics.

He goes to slink into the desk next to that loud boy from yesterday,  _Zach,_ when the boy looks up at him, “Not here, dude. You’re not my problem anymore.”

Zayn sighs, “Look, I like this as much as you probably do, but - “

"Nah," Zach waves his hand dismissively, his buzzed head a sharp contrast to the red underlining his eyes, "You’re like, over there now, Mr. Baker says that he’s switched us up."

Zayn follows Zach’s line of sight and to the far-left corner of the room where there’s a brown haired boy bent over his laptop, his eyes fixated on whatever’s displaying on the screen as he pushes at the fringe that keeps falling in his eyes.

“‘Yeah, ‘kay,” Zayn mumbles, “Thanks, man.”

Zach doesn’t seem to hear him, too involved in trying to shove a pencil down the shirt of the girl sitting in front of him without her noticing.

_________________________

The boy’s name is  _Liam Payne._

_________________________

By mid February, Zayn thinks that he’s made a friend that he desperately wishes he made before. He’s not exactly sure how he roamed the same hallways as Liam for three and a half years before noting his existence.

Liam’s sharp and smart, very good with numbers, absolutely terrible with English, and listens to all the same music Zayn does. Baker’s getting tired of telling them to be quiet during project work time, so now he just directs them to the far edge of the classroom so he doesn’t have to deal with them.

"Zayn," Liam snaps his fingers on his laptop to catch his attention, a terrible habit that Zayn’s picking up on, "It’s your turn."

Zayn glances up at him and stops filling out the worksheet, “We’re supposed to be working.”

Liam’s eyes crinkle, “We are,” he pulls back, showing Zayn the half-assed diagram and graph he’s been ignoring for half the period, “But everyone deserves a break after a long day.”

"It’s first period."

“ _Zayn_.”

Zayn laughs and sets his pen down, reaching out with his foot to kick Liam in the shins. The classroom is abuzz around them, people talking over everything other than Economics. “Fine, I’ve never….” he trails off, sifting through the experiences that he’s only ever had in his head, “eaten a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich.”

Liam’s mouth drops open and he looks scandalized, “How’s that even  _possible_?”

Zayn scowls, tossing the cap of his pen and watching gleefully as it lands squarely in Liam’s open mouth, leaving him sputtering and spitting, “Honestly? It just seems  _wrong_ to me. Like those two things should never, ever go together.”

Liam tries to hand Zayn back the cap of his pen, but Zayn flinches away at the saliva-slicked piece, so Liam drops it on his desk, right on top of the worksheet Zayn’s been working on for the last forty minutes.

“ _Liam.”_

Liam’s answering smile is full and mischievous, “What?”

_________________________

By March, Liam starts waiting for Zayn outside Economics even if Zayn is late, and insists on getting the door for him. Zayn of course, being the little shit that he is, mocks him relentlessly for it, if only to squash down the strange way his stomach twists at the attention.

Economics has become his favorite class of the day, despite being one of his least favorite subject, and the reason is sitting across from him, trying to hide his headphones from Baker’s hawk eyes in his red hoodie.

Liam’s comfortable and reliable, and most of all, he makes Zayn feel like he has something to look forward to each day rather than await an abstract future that’s filled with diplomas and graduation caps.

Which is why, on a chilly Thursday morning, when Liam walks into class fifteen minutes late with tears in his eyes, Zayn feels like someone’s thrown him into the ocean with no lifejacket.

They sit in tense silence for nearly twenty minutes before Zayn sighs loudly, “Alright, what’s wrong?”

Liam swallows, “Called it quits with my girlfriend.”

Something pangs in Zayn’s heart, a strange emotion that tastes almost like  _jealousy_ curls up the back of his throat.  _Liam had a girlfriend?_

He’s dazed and strangely elated ( _Liam’s single -_ though he’s not quite sure why that piece of information is so important to him), “I’m sorry.”

Liam shrugs and laughs a little, “‘s cool. I’m the one that ended it anyway. I - I’ll tell you about it some other time if that’s okay?”

Zayn shrugs, exterior calm, cool, and collected, “Sure.”

_________________________

In April, two very important things happen: Prom tickets go on sale and their final Econ project is due at the end of the month.

Neither is that significant to Zayn though. What  _is_ significant is the fact that he thinks he might, possibly, slightly have a  _thing_ for Liam Payne, and that they’re interactions, careless and platonic up until now, have a charge that Zayn can’t quite put his finger on.

It’s not just Liam’s hand on his shoulder - it’s  _Liam’s hand on his shoulder,_ not Liam’s hug goodbye - but _Liam’s hug goodbye._

They’re messing around on Liam’s laptop at their local library late into a Friday evening, semester project long tossed at their feet, forgotten, as Kendrick Lamar blasts through their headphones, when Liam says it.

"So, prom." His tone is awkward as hesitant, "You taking anyone?"

Zayn hits pause,  _Poetic Justice_ no longer giving their conversation a soundtrack, “Haven’t given it much thought really. Not sure if I’m going.”

Liam nudges him playfully and it’s only then that Zayn realizes how close they are. The couch they’re curled up on is reminiscent of the one in Zayn’s living room, which makes Zayn’s mouth run dry for some reason. Liam’s arm is tossed around his shoulders and Zayn himself is leaning into his chest, head tucked under Liam’s neck as he fought to stay awake during the sleepy spell he had twenty minutes ago.

"You have to go! I’ll be there - it’ll be great, Zayn."

Zayn tries to swallow back the question, but it’s out there before he can stop himself, “Are you taking someone, then.”

He feels Liam kind of freeze under him and suddenly there’s an arm stroking down his side, “I - yeah - well I kind of promised this childhood friend of mine that I’d take her ‘cause she missed her school’s senior prom.” 

"Oh," Zayn mutters, "Cool." The disappointment is sickening even though he’s not exactly sure what he was hoping for in the first place.

"Zayn?"

Zayn hums his response, his eyes pulling shut once again. He can’t exactly help it though - it’s been a long week and Liam’s signature red hoodie smells like chlorine, sunscreen, and something else that tickles at Zayn’s senses in the best way possible. “What’s up?”

Liam laughs at his slurred reply, “Guess we need to call it a night. You’re falling asleep on me.”

"Am not," Zayn rubs his eyes and promptly yawns, "I’m wide awake."

Liam bumps his head into Zayn’s temple, gentle and playful. The action is quietly intimate and his voice is gravelly in Zayn’s ear, “Let’s get you home, Zayn. I’ll drive you.”

Zayn nods, too tired to argue, “Okay.”

Liam’s arm stays around his shoulder all the way to his car.

_________________________

The ride home is comfortable and quiet, Pink Floyd playing through the speakers. And for the first time it strikes Zayn that Liam familiar with where he lives, that Zayn’s quick muttered directions were enough for Liam to take him home.

He thinks he dozes off again because the next thing he knows, Liam’s powering off the engine in Zayn’s dark driveway, and leaning across to gently shake him awake.

Zayn groans and Liam laughs quietly, “We’re here.”

"Yeah," Zayn mumbles in reply, "Thanks for the ride."

Liam doesn’t say anything, chooses instead to pop a piece of gum in his mouth, and raises his eyebrows at Zayn. His sunglasses are still atop his head and Zayn chuckles silently at the absurd detail.

He points weakly, tiredness from his afternoon basketball practice catching up in his bones, “Raybans.”

Liam’s eyebrows furrow in confusion for a moment before understanding smoothens them out. He plucks the sunglasses off and offers them to Zayn, “Here.”

Zayn raises a smooth eyebrow but takes the offered item without question, “Thanks, man.”

Liam cracks a smile at that and makes a quick hand-motion, “Try them on.”

"It’s dark out," Zayn deadpans, hands reaching out to tap on the window, "Completely useless don’t you think?"

Liam smiles at him again and Zayn’s helpless to the way he slides them on. He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, “Well?”

Liam snorts in amusement, turning away and shaking his head. “Guess you can either rock Raybans or not.”

Zayn punches him in the shoulder, “I’m leaving. Bye Liam - and I’m keeping the sunglasses.”

"Well I guess I’ll be back to get them then," Liam says, throwing the words out effortlessly while Zayn tries to hold in his tumbling heart.

That night, Zayn’s asleep before he remembers his head hitting the pillow, but around midnight his phone vibrates from his desk. And when he leans over to check, something nervous and exciting and new gets lodged in his throat.

_Liam: goodnight :)_

_sent at 12:14 am_

_________________________

May brings the final details in the college plans Zayn so desperately awaited in January. It seems like a lifetime away somehow. Especially because Liam’s opted for Community College in their little town while Zayn’s probably going to be about two hours away. Sometimes he has to force himself to remember that he has no claim over Liam’s sweet smile and honest eyes.

Even if they text all the time, often falling asleep mid-reply, and push their heads together during class when they talk, even if Liam has a special smile reserved for just him, even if all that - they’re not really anything. At the end of the day, they’re just friends, and Zayn wants to be able to live with that. Wants to be happy with that because Liam makes him feel light and alive in a way that resembles the oncoming sunny days.

  _Liam: I want my sunglasses bacckkkk Zaaayyynnn_

_Zayn: Come and get em then :)_

Liam shows up on Zayn’s doorstep at nine on a Sunday night and he doesn’t need directions at all this time.

"Hi," he says, and the first thing Zayn notices besides his trademark red hoodie is the jittery way in which he jumps around. It’s not cold out in the least bit so Zayn laughs, reaching out to steady him.

"What’s up?" he asks, even though there’s something incredible in Liam being at his doorstep like this - like he’s waiting for Zayn - like he’s here to pick Zayn up for something - "You need to be somewhere?"

Liam shakes his head no and his hair flips with the motion, “Nothing’s wrong - just here to get my sunglasses that you  _stole_  from me.”

Zayn bites back a smile and pushes off the door-jam, “Be right back. My sisters are already asleep so you can come in if you want.” He doesn’t wait to see what Liam does, and hikes up the stairs to his bedroom, scooping up the sunglasses that are laying on his desk, before rushing back down the stairs.

Liam watches him the whole time from the foyer, head cocked to one side, and his smile so fond and private that Zayn’s not sure what to do with himself anymore.

"Here," he mutters, handing the Raybans back to Liam, who pockets them quickly, but makes no effort to move.

"Thanks."

There’s a silence, until Liam finally takes a deep breath, “Um - Zayn - do you, like, uh, wanna do something sometime? Like, with me?”

And Zayn’s brain  _explodes._

There’s no other way to put it, because here is this lovely, kind, warm boy putting himself out there and Zayn just -  _fuck._ He swallows back the  _boom_ of his heartbeat and chokes out a single, “Sure.”

Liam’s answering smile is huge and Zayn wants him to look like that always, “That’s - that’s great. I’ll text you, yeah. There’s this really cool vista point up near San Francisco or if you wanna stay closer there’s one up near the Saratoga hills. Or we could get food, like - anything. Anything’s good with me.”

Zayn lets out breathless laughter and says, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll text you Liam,” because he’s dumb and really not good with words when he needs to be.

Nevertheless, he’s rewarded with another wide smile that makes Zayn feel like his brain is broken.

_________________________

They end up going to both.

Saratoga on Friday and San Francisco the following weekend. And Zayn finds the courage in him to take Liam’s hand on the Golden Gate Bridge as the wind whips through their hair, Liam laughing brightly at some stupid joke Zayn’s managed to whip up.

Back near Zayn’s car, Liam turns to him and smiles, “You ever done this before?” His tone is polite, nonjudgmental, curious, and Zayn wants to keep him forever.

"Done what?"

Liam gestures unhelpfully, cheeks burning and hair in his eyes, “The date thing?”

And Zayn stops, looks down at their intertwined fingers and thinks back to the boys and girls he’s kissed at the back of the bleachers, the ones he liked, the ones he took out, the ones that broke him. “No,” he says, and it’s the most honest admission he’s ever made.

He’s never done anything that’s felt quite like this before.

_________________________

Prom is an  _event._

Zayn gets dragged along by his friends and he ends up wearing his dad’s tux while his mother tears up and takes photographs of him in front of their fireplace. He laughs, hugs her goodbye, and drives himself to the venue with his friends play-wrestling in his backseat.

He doesn’t find Liam until about an hour into the function and when he does, he’s floored. Liam looks incredible and his date is a beautiful dark haired girl who’s very sweet and winks at Zayn knowingly when they’re introduced.

There are decorations and music and dancing and pretty girls and boys, but all Zayn will remember from that night is the way Liam reaches over to straighten his jacket, fingers ghosting over his shoulders and down his arms.

"You look - " Liam smirks, shaking his head, " - and excuse my language here - really fucking good."

Zayn laughs, and slides a hand around Liam’s back, “Thanks, but I’ve got nothing on you.”

"No one does," Liam mutters playfully, before he leans in to press a kiss to his cheek. "Except you though."

_________________________

When he gets home it’s two in the morning and he sits up, the warm hum of his laptop as he scrolls through the night’s pictures. Liam’s texted him  _goodnight_  hours ago in all his sleepy, misspelled glory that had Zayn’s fingers shaking as he tapped out a simple  _sleep well, Liam._

It’s now, in his darkened bedroom, that Zayn realizes that he’s eighteen years old, a senior in high school, and that Liam Payne is going to break his heart into blood stained shards and change him irrevocably.

_________________________

Liam’s nose is a little too big to be considered conventionally attractive, his ears are pointy, his face isn’t fully symmetrical, and he has an underbite. He’s not even the type that Zayn’s normally attracted to, but there’s something so incredibly special about him that Zayn thinks he can look for another seventy years and never meet another like him.

And suddenly, June enters with a roar of sunlight and gorgeous afternoons; temperatures sky-rocketing to the point that Zayn’s t-shirts stick to his back with sweat. Somehow, that doesn’t seem to stop Liam from giving him warm hugs and fitting their palms together.

One morning, Zayn walks into Econ and Liam hands a plate covered in aluminum foil. It turns out to be home-baked apple pie that’s still warm and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"I woke up at four in the morning to do all that," Liam says to him, hushed and quiet and happy, "So you better appreciate it."

Zayn opens his mouth to thank him, but there’s something wedged in his throat, squeezing wetness into his eyes.

"You like apple pie right? I mean, everyone likes apple pie, so - "

"Thank you," Zayn whispers, "You woke up to make me something, Liam. I - thank you so fucking much. Honestly. I really, really appreciate it."

Liam smiles and brushes his hand across the back of Zayn’s, “Don’t thank me yet. Nobody’s taste-tested them.” 

_________________________

All of a sudden, Zayn’s left standing in his cap and gown, hand clutched around a diploma. Here’s his finish line - he’s made it. Made it out of this little town that he always claimed he hated to death and back and would do anything to get out of. But, he thinks hysterically, maybe he wouldn’t mind a little more time.

Then there’s a warm arm around his shoulder and a phone being held up. “Smile,” Liam says, “This is one for the books.”

The flash leaves Zayn blinded and then his friends are there and his parents are there and people are handing him posters with his name on them, flowers addressed to him, and candy necklaces are being flung around his neck. He spends some time talking to his English teacher, the one that he’s sure changed his life completely.

And then he’s alone. Standing at the edge of the student parking lot, nostalgia and fear nearly making him sick, when his phone beeps.

_Liam: WHere ARE OYU? CAn’T FIND YOU_

Zayn smiles down at his phone without replying, because Liam is another uncertainty now. He never planned on putting down roots like this in the last six months of his high school career, but he’s not sure how he’s going to rip free.

_Liam: FOUND YOU_

Zayn rolls his eyes and turns to find Liam smiling at him from ten feet away, “Hi Liam.”

"Hey, you," Liam’s cheeks are pushed up so high that Zayn’s face hurts from just looking at him, "We’ve graduated. Can you imagine? For a while, I thought it’d never happen."

"Yeah," Zayn says absentmindedly and makes his way over to Liam to wrap him in a hug. Liam hugs back just as tightly, and Zayn reaches to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

Liam’s face is pink when Zayn pulls back and his hair in his eyes in the way that Zayn loves, “This summer’s going to be the  _best._ Got a job at the local pool as a lifeguard,” and his voice drops off, a little hesitant now, “And you - you should come by. Whenever you can, if you feel like it I mean.”

Zayn knocks his head into Liam’s collarbone, “Course. But I can’t swim now can I?”

"Don’t have to come to swim. Just come by to see me," Liam’s arms settle on his hips and squeeze tightly.

"Okay," Zayn says back, "Okay."

_________________________

The first weekend into summer, Zayn and Liam go down to the Winchester Mystery House, watch  _The Amazing Spiderman 2_  even though Liam is a DC fan, and lay out in their local park, Liam’s head in Zayn’s lap as he leans back into the shade of a tree, their  _Yogurtland_ cups tossed to the side.

Zayn’s messing with Liam’s hair, running his fingers through the pieces that are curling from the heat and sweat, and the silence is peaceful and quiet. He can’t imagine any other path his life should’ve taken.

Liam squirms away when Zayn’s hand touches the sides of his neck, so Zayn pinches his nose, laughing. Their eyes lock for a second and Zayn smiles at him softly, “You wanna go down to Danny’s tomorrow? They’re having this party - “

Liam sobers instantly, body tightening, “I don’t party.” His tone is curt, cutting, and final.

"Oh," Zayn replies, lost and a little confused, "I mean, it’s not really a big party, just this thing that he puts together with his brother and - "

"Zayn, no," Liam says again, and his eyes are trained helplessly on Zayn’s face, "I don’t party. There’s gonna be alcohol and weed and I just. I don’t  _do_ that.”

Zayn narrows his eyes, “Neither do I, man.”

Liam sits up and his hands are on Zayn’s shoulders. His eyes flick between the both of Zayn’s and he bites his lip, “My - my sister. She’s been in and out of rehab her entire life and I can’t do that okay. I’ve seen her come home and get in all this trouble over and over and over again.”

"Hey," Zayn settles his hands on Liam’s sides in what he hopes is a soothing manner, "It’s cool. We don’t have to go - it was just a suggestion. Besides, I’m not really big on all that stuff anyway."

Liam nods before he releases a long breath, “I’m sorry. God - it’s just - “

"It’s fine," Zayn whispers, "You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to."

Liam nods again and goes back to lie down, but not before a soft kiss to Zayn’s forehead, “Thanks.”

Zayn nods, clears his throat, “I’m sorry. About your sister, I mean.”

Liam shakes his head, “You don’t know the full story. I - Can I tell it to you?”

Zayn brushes his hand across Liam’s cheek, feeling the beginnings of the just incoming stubble, “If that’s what you want, Liam.”

"I wanna tell you about it."

_________________________

The things Liam tells him, about his family, about himself, would have Zayn ready to flee in any other situation. Because he doesn’t have the slightest idea on how to go about being useful in a situation like this. Zayn barely has his own life figured out, he’s just come out of a clinically depressed stage in his life, grieved major deaths, and finally feels like he has both feet on the ground.

But it’s  _Liam_.

_________________________

It takes Zayn nearly two weeks filled with playful, encouraging texts to finally go down to visit Liam at work. And even then, he goes just a half-hour before the pool closes, the sun setting over the hills, plunging everything around them into dusk.

Liam’s packing stuff up, putting left-behind belongings in the lost and found, but when he spots Zayn, his eyes disappear into little half-moons and he motions for Zayn to slip through the pool gates.

"Hi," Zayn breathes, and he feels a little like a fool, but Liam seems to be just as excited to see him.

"Hello, stranger," Liam laughs, tossing the last of the equipment into the shed before he locks up, "You look great."

Zayn raises an eyebrow and looks down at his old basketball shorts and tank, “Thanks. Can’t say the same about you though.” He wrinkles his nose, “You smell like chlorine.”

Liam laughs, “Unfortunate side-effects of the job, Zayn. But then you kind of end up loving it - reminds you of a hard day’s work, you know?”

Zayn smacks his back, “You sit around all day and text me.”

"I  _save lives_ , thank you very much,” Liam retorts, narrowing his eyes playfully.

Zayn rolls his eyes, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, man, who am I to judge?”

Liam snorts and leads the two of them over to the pool chairs. He’s wearing his swim trunks and soaking wet, so Zayn’s not exactly surprised when Liam offers to take him into the pool too.

"You’re already wearing shorts," Liam points out, "Can just take your shirt off and get in. I won’t let you drown or anything."

Zayn hesitates, fingers gripping the edge of his shirt, sudden embarrassment flooding through his body. “I - um. No that’s okay.”

Liam’s eyes are soft, “You sure?”

"Yeah," Zayn nods rapidly and his neck smarts at the motion, "I’m not too fond of water anyway, so, I’ll just like, leave."

There’s a loud splash behind him and Zayn turns just in time to see Liam cannonball into the pool, laughing. The action brings an automatic smile to his face.

When he resurfaces, Liam’s hair is plastered to his forehead and he’s tinted tangerine from the sunlight and Zayn wants more than anything to just shed his shirt and jump. Finally, it’s the whispers of  _you’ve only got him for a little longer_ in his head that make him turn around, strip his shirt off and follow Liam into the pool.

The water’s cold, but not very deep and Zayn can keep his head above the water as long as he’s on his toes, but that doesn’t prevent Liam from hovering nearby just in case.

Zayn’s read about moments like this hundreds of times, pool, half-naked, sunset, the whole she-bang, but there’s nothing that can quite compare to the way Liam’s looking at him, all warmth and honesty and respect, rather than the typical heat and lust he’s imagined would follow a moment like this.

"Can I - ?" Liam breaks Zayn from his thoughts, hand outstretched and Zayn’s not sure what he’s asking for but the answer always seems to be yes. He nods jerkily, and Liam puts a hand on his back, the other tiptoeing fingers up the ribs Zayn knows that people can see when he turns in a certain way.

He knows what he looks like, jutting hipbones, visible ribs, and collarbones like mountains - people think it, he knows, and it’s true to a dangerous extent. He can see the clicks in Liam’s head, the understanding fitting the puzzle pieces of when Zayn talked about  _that time he needed help_ together.

But Liam doesn’t comment, just reaches up to tickle him, and Zayn’s never been so thankful for a single person in his entire life.

_________________________

They get ice cream after and Zayn pays for the both of them. Liam smiles at him widely for it and wraps Zayn up in his red hoodie. California nights are Zayn’s favorites and Liam just makes them infinitely better.

"What do you wanna do now?" Liam swings their hands between him and Zayn is sure his hands are clammy from sweat and pool water, but Liam doesn’t seem to mind.

Zayn shrugs, “It’s nine-thirty. Not much to do in this town.”

Liam laughs, loud and open, and Zayn never, ever knew people thought he was funny before, “How does a drive and The Weeknd sound?”

Zayn smears his ice cream into Liam’s cheek, who in turn, makes a loud, indignant sound, before he takes off towards the car. “Perfect,” he shouts over his shoulder and all he feels and hears is the salty breeze and Liam’s shouts of revenge behind him.

_________________________

That night, Liam texts him the picture that he took of Zayn and him at graduation and Zayn spends nearly fifteen minutes staring at the way they fit together. They’re a bit of an odd match, Zayn’s slender, darker frame and Liam’s width, pale-pink skin, and boy-next-door charm.

They look so good together it hurts.

_________________________

"I wish I met you before," Liam says to him one day, "Like last year. Or - even before."

Zayn hums, “Would we have actually got along?”

Liam frowns, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

They’re hiding out in a little crevice on the Point Reyes National Seashore because Zayn loves it here and Liam has never been. Next week Liam’s been promised a drive through Napa Valley, and though Zayn’s seen these places for nearly two decades, with Liam everything feels new. Like he’s discovering memories that were already meant to exist rather than making them from scratch.

"We’re so different," Zayn explains, "Like - "

"No, I know," Liam interrupts, then looks sheepish for it a minute later, only continuing when Zayn motions for him to do so, "I didn’t care much for school before, you know. And I probably would’ve avoided someone as  _studious_ as you.” Liam stares at the breaking waves for a moment and then shakes his head, “ _Fuck.”_

Zayn nudges him and leans closer so their heads are tucked against one another, “Hey, I would’ve avoided you too. You seemed like the quintessential popular guy - you know the quiet ones that follow around their asshole leaders?” Liam looks so offended, mouth turned down and eyes so sad that Zayn has to laugh. “It was just at first, don’t look at me like that.”

"Well," Liam mutters when Zayn’s calmed down, "what do you think of me know?"

Zayn swallows back a lurching of spilled words, “I think - think you’re great. You’re so different from what I expected to get out of a stupid Economics partner.”

"You too," Liam says after a minute, and he pokes Zayn in the cheek, "I didn’t see the Kendrick Lamar and the Schoolboy Q and the  _rap_ coming - thought you were one of those Indie kids.”

"You’re stereotyping me," Zayn scowls and this is flirting isn’t it? Zayn’s not sure but it sure as hell feels like it.

"Never," Liam vows next to him, and that’s that.

_________________________

That night, Liam drives himself home in Zayn’s car, even though Zayn objects loudly. When they get out to switch drivers, Liam catches his arm, pulling him into a hug.

"You should meet my mom," he whispers, "like before you leave."

Zayn blinks into his shoulder in confusion, “Leave?”

"For college."

And something dead and lead-heavy sinks in Zayn’s stomach, “Right,” he gets out, “College.” And fuck it’s  _July_ now isn’t it. He’s still got a good two months but the twisting in his stomach is undeniable. He’d always been nervous, but this is new.

"Zayn?" Liam’s looking at him and Zayn looks back into the most honest pair of eyes that he’s ever seen and reaches up to put a hand on his heart. He’s read about this in books, but he’s unsure on why exactly he does it. Whatever it is, it seems to break something in Liam’s eyes though, "Zayn."

"Yeah?" Zayn says absently, focused on the beating under his fingers, through the shirt that still smells like chlorine and sunscreen and that something Zayn’s never quite been able to identify.

There’s a hand on the back of his neck and  _fuck_ Zayn knows where this is going, so he reaches to up thread a hand in Liam’s sweat-damp hair. They both laugh before they kiss and Zayn swears to every God, high and mighty, that he’s never been kissed like this before, never kissed like this.

When Liam pulls back, his eyes crinkle and he presses a last kiss to Zayn’s cheek, “I’ll see you soon then.”

_________________________

Zayn curls into his bed and curls into his pillow, watches as his phone lights up like clockwork with Liam’s text  _goodnight_ , and replies with his customary  _sleep well_. Nothing’s ever felt like this before, he thinks, a little hysterically, like he’s not just attracted to Liam - but all that Liam is and does - right or wrong.

He’s eighteen years old though, and he’s sure that teenagers don’t fall in love. It’s a terrifying word in and of itself, but there’s something so fucking emotional - so fucking raw - between him and Liam that the physical intimacy seems almost a result rather than a requirement.

Liam’s the best thing that’s happened to Zayn at the worst time possible.

_________________________

Liam picks him up after work on a beautiful, warm Saturday evening, in his own car this time, because he wants to hike the Sutro Baths at Seal Rock.

And as Zayn sits next to him, driving down the highway with Nova the Experience in the speakers, he realizes that nothing has ever been this easy in his entire life. This absolute calm and trust and comfort have never existed and  _fuck_ Zayn is -

-  _so in love, so in love, so in love -_

Liam takes his hand over the gear stick and Zayn thinks about the way he writes as a type of catharsis.

He’s going to need to pen an epic to forget  _Liam Payne_.

_________________________

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry it ends here…because we’ve actually hit last weekend here and I don’t have anything else to say. Yet. Maybe when it’s all over I’ll finish this but I think it’s somehow more poignant (to me) in its unfinished state.
> 
> I’M SORRY IF THAT WAS BORING OR SHITTY OR TERRIBLE I JUST NEEDED TO GET SOME THINGS OFF MY CHEST AND IT’S BEEN AN EMOTIONAL SUMMER I’M SO SORRY. ALSO I DON’T THINK THE CHARACTERIZATION WAS QUITE RIGHT BUT IT’S SO PERSONAL I CAN’T EVEN BREATHE WHEN I READ IT -
> 
> Okay.
> 
> I’m done here.


End file.
